To Dance With Madness, To Waltz In The Dark
by Kahva
Summary: Inspired by and based on Gamine's Wait For No Man. Written with Gamine's permission, complete. Please read Wait For No Man first to understand this story. Governor Swann pov. The danger of holding on to pain too long, is to sacrifice one's sanity.


_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Disney's, Bruckheimer's or Verbinski's, and durn it all, nobody will let me own Orlando Bloom! Life is so unfair… Also, I have no money, so please don't sue me, I'm just a struggling to survive from paycheck to paycheck state employee. September 2003._

_**Author's notes:** I've been sitting on this story for a while now, toying with it. I've finally decided that the form it is in now, the way I originally had it, is the way I like it best, so I'm finally posting it now here in August, 2005. This little fic was inspired by Gamine's "Wait For No Man" and various conversations with her while she was writing the story. Go read it now, if you haven't, or this fic won't make any sense to you, I'm afraid. It still might not even after you read her fic, but at least you'll have some reference for the Governor's mental state. Go on, go read Gamine's fic, you know you want to. _

_Have you read Gamine's "Wait For No Man" yet? You have? Good! Now you're ready for this fic, from Governor Swann's disturbed point of view. And what have I told ya'll about pettin' the cursed monkey? He bites! Hard! Don't be pettin' the cursed monkey, mates! He's not had rabies shots, after all. Now settle in, and I hope you enjoy this trip down the path of madness. This is my take on what may have been going through Weatherby Swann's mind at some point in the first year after Elizabeth's death._

TO DANCE WITH MADNESS,

TO WALTZ IN THE DARK

BY

KAHVA

Ahh, yes, here comes the jailer now. Excuse me, the _Doctor._ Here comes the vainglorious _Doctor._ He looks pale, I wonder if keeping me here when I clearly don't belong in this abominable place is finally starting to keep him up late at night. Yes, _Doctor_, is your conscience finally starting to weigh you down? You know it isn't right to keep me here, yet you insist, you all insist that I am unwell! Bloody peasant idiots… Bloody fools… Must smile, I must smile now at the bloody jailer – excuse me, _Doctor_. Mustn't laugh at him, mustn't tell him the truth.

I mustn't tell him that I would rather push him off of a cliff than to "forgive" myself, my so-called grandchild, and that murderous, licentious blacksmith son-in-law of mine for my daughter's murder. I mustn't tell him that, no, no, no, no… He'll have me strapped down to this pitiful excuse for a bed again if I tell him the truth he claims I need to express. He doesn't want the truth, none of them do!

He killed her. He murdered my precious daughter. That _blacksmith…_ he murdered my only child! _MY CHILD!_

Why couldn't he have been satisfied with merely stealing her away from me? Why did he have to murder her? Would that he and that evil babe he spawned have been the ones to die that night… For Elizabeth's sake, I would have at least pretended to be sad at their funeral… Then once no one was around, when it was quite late into the night, I would have danced a waltz upon their graves. My darling little Elizabeth always said that I was the best dancer ever…

So help me, I'll still have that dance on his grave. And upon his demon spawn's grave as well. Then upon that traitorous former commodore's grave.

And if the Almighty is gracious, I'll force that lecherous pirate to watch my waltz before I kill him as well. I mayhap would even consider making him dance with me, to drive the dagger of guilt and shame deeper into his heart – if he even has one - but I refuse to stain my hands by touching such a vile and despicable creature. I would embrace that vile son-in-law as a bosom companion before I would _ever_ touch that filthy pirate!

And I shall _never_ embrace William Turner.

Yes, good morning, _Doctor._ Yes, I'm feeling quite well today, _Doctor_. Yes, I would like to go outside into the garden today, _Doctor_, thank you so much for allowing me to go there.

If I don't get out of here soon, I'll murder that jailer-doctor of mine. With my own bare hands, I swear I shall do it! These hands, this mind, once governed Jamaica. Killing an idiot who thinks the title of "Doctor" means that he actually has knowledge of medicine will be a task of utter simplicity. Not to mention immensely satisfying. I could snap his neck so easily…

No. I'm walking out to the garden, under guard by more jailers, as usual. Excuse me, _caretakers_. They are my _caretakers._ I would take great _care_ in ridding this world of them, would it forward my purposes. No, I cannot kill the jailer-doctor, I cannot kill the jailer-caretakers. They must all believe that I am falling to prey to their lies, they must all believe that I have been convinced that my beloved daughter was not murdered by her husband. They must all believe… so that I can win my freedom, and avenge her death.

Oh my sweet Elizabeth… Why did you have to die? Why did you have to be so naïve as to think that any man other than myself, your father, could ever love you the way you deserved to be loved? How did you come to believe that someone else could protect you from all harm? I should never have allowed anyone to court you… If only I could do it all over again, no man would ever have the opportunity to ask you to marry them. No one!

I shall avenge you, my lovely child… If no one else suffers for your murder, I can assure you that… that… _person_ you so foolishly married, that _blacksmith_, he shall die slowly for what he did to you. I shall make him drown with guilt before I send him to Hell.

Drown… Yes, I shall make him drown with guilt! Drown!

Then you will return to me, and we shall both waltz upon his grave, my dear. We shall dance a glorious victory waltz upon his pitiful grave in the pale moonlight, the most glorious waltz ever seen! It is only a matter of time… and I am a very patient man.

For now, I shall play their games, I shall say what they want to hear, I shall dance their gauche dance… Those ignorant fools, they do not realize that _I_ am the one who is truly calling out the tune! It may be their dance, their pitiful melody at this moment, yes… but it is _my_ grand composition which shall play when I execute William Turner for the murder of my daughter.

Such a lovely waltz his death song shall be…


End file.
